


Confession

by examsarecomingbutimprocrastinating



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/examsarecomingbutimprocrastinating/pseuds/examsarecomingbutimprocrastinating
Summary: Sherlock tells Molly why the phone call happened, Molly protects herself, John is an angel that doesn't put up with sherlock's bs.





	

Before those desperate seconds Sherlock had been assaulted by emotion, had someone asked him if he had loved before, he would deny it very quickly. 'Emotion fogs the mind' he'd quip back. But time and time again, he has proven that he has loved.  
He loves John Watson, like a brother; this proven through how far he would go for him. How far they would both go and have gone for each other.  
He had loved Mary Watson, like a sister. Her past crawling up and attacking had been one of Sherlock's biggest heartbreaks; he couldn't protect her from someone who he should've been able to see coming. He could solidly say that her death, protecting him, seeing John go through that ordeal, was one of his biggest heartbreaks.  
He loves a fair few people, Mrs Hudson included, his parents, Mycroft - believe it or not.  
He also loves one Molly Hooper. This love for Molly had assaulted him, he hadn't meant to let this emotion surface. He hadn't meant to let this emotion surface as loving a person meant the pain from loving and then losing them was always that much worse. But Euros and her games had pushed this love to show. And once everything had settled down, Sherlock finally allowed himself to process what he had confessed. 

"I love Molly." He spoke aloud from his chair. 

John, sat in the kitchen, looked up from the days newspaper. "That you do, Sherlock." He replied, with a slight smirk. 

"Did you know?" 

Arching a brow, John walked towards the entryway of the kitchen, looking at his odd friend. "Did I know? Well, ah" he took a deep breath, crossing his arms, "I had a suspicion you had feelings for her for a while. I didn't know whether you loved her or not," 

"How do I know this is love, what I feel for her - could it be I'm wrong and thi-"

"Alright Sherlock, stop right there. You're beginning to sound like a Cher song." 

"I do no-" 

"In that moment, you thought Molly was about to be gone. You said those words, well partly because she had asked you to." John moved from his spot to his chair, directly opposite Sherlock. "But, I heard you say it needlessly a second time. I heard the desperation in your voice, the shake in it. I think you do honest to god love that woman, but you already knew that. You're just being a nervous Nancy." 

Silence took its own seat in the room, as John watched Sherlock process what he had just told him. 

"Besides, what's the point of this conversation? Surely this would've been the first thing you'd have talked about with Molly," 

Silence had gotten comfortable in its seat.  
Sherlock on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. 

"Don't tell me...." John looked Sherlock dead in the eye. 

"Okay, I won't." Sherlock replied. 

"Oh you utter cock! It's been weeks Sherlock! You haven't even seen her have you. Unbelievable." 

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock stood up abruptly and began to pace. "And say what! Hi, yeah hi, the twat who's been absolutely horrid for the last however many years, yeah hi, coffee?" 

Standing up, John marched up to Sherlock. "Go to her right now." 

"Bu-" 

"Go." 

"What if I-" 

John didn't even grace Sherlock with a verbal reply, he just pointed to the open door. To which, Sherlock replied with silence as he walked out the door. 

Not a half an hour later, Sherlock found himself at Molly's door. Only, she wasn't home. Of course she wasn't, it's a Wednesday at three pm. She probably wouldn't be home for another three hours. Sherlock, had he focused on what he was doing instead of stringing curses at John who wasn't even with him. 

He considered going back home, but knew if he did, he wouldn't come back again out of pure cowardice. So he sat on the stairs outside the flat, and waited. 

Three hours later, Molly found Sherlock asleep on her stairs. Had this been before their last phone call, she may had found this endearing. But it wasn't. She was furious and hurt. Whatever good mood she had been in, slipped away. 

"Wake up." She said, loud and clear. 

Startling himself awake, Sherlock stood quickly. Giving himself a headrush. 

"Sherlock, I'm tired. Whatever you need, come to the morgue tomorrow." 

Taken aback by Molly's clear bad mood, Sherlock pressed forward. 

"We haven't talked for a while...uh..how are you?" 

Blinking to the man in front of her in shock, Molly replied with slight venom to her tone, slight venom with added heartbreak. 

"How am I? I am fantastic. Thanks by the way, asking me to say the words that shatter my heart every day. That was great. I loved that!" Molly punctuated her words with double thumbs up. 

And then it hit Sherlock; she hadn't been told why that phone call had happened. Sherlock had imagined having the conversation with her that between everything that had been going on, he genuinely believed he had told her. Through text or whatever other form. 

As Molly began to turn around, to open her front door, intending to leave Sherlock on the porch. He moved forward,

"No, please. Let me explain,"

Looking around herself, Molly closed her eyes. "Fine. But not where my neighbours can hear you, I can do without that," 

Shuffling into the flat, Sherlock followed her into the kitchen. 

"Coffee?" She asked, back to him at the counter. 

"Two -"

"Two sugars, I know." 

As Molly placed the two mugs down, she told Sherlock to take a seat. Sitting at the corner, Molly sat on the other chair of said corner. 

"Come on, what's this explanation."

Clasping his hands around the mug, Sherlock braced himself for what he'd have to say to Molly. It may have been too long of a brace as Molly began talking again. 

"It was cruel, Sherlock." Her voice wavered, whatever venom that had been in her tone earlier had subsided and the only thing present was pain. 

"Please, I can explain. It's just a little unbelievable unless you witnessed it." 

And so Sherlock explained everything up to the point of the phone call. 

Molly's anger came back in an instant. "So, I was just part of the little game then?" 

"What? No! Well I suppose for Euros. But the second she brought you into it, 'game' stopped being a fitting word. Molly, please. I promise you, you weren't just part of a little game." 

Molly looked off to the ground, she could feel tears threatening to flow over. 

"In that moment, that you weren't picking up your phone, I was terrified."

She looked up. 

"And then the countdown was going and you sounded...broken. Like even just hearing my voice was causing you pain. I was so scared you would hang up. I was so scared." Sherlock's voice began to waver in the same way it had in those terrifying seconds. 

"I never wanted to put you through that pain, I know it hurt you. I never would have asked that of you," 

And Molly's tears began to roll down her face. 

"I know," she breathed, partly to herself. 

"But, then I said those words.... And as soon as you said it back, relieved doesn't cover how I felt." 

"I'm sorry, Sherlock.." she replied, her heart felt as if it was beating outside of her chest. Sherlock truly looked wrecked. 

"I know you wouldn't have," her grasp on her mug tightened "just don't ever say those words to me again." 

Sherlock looked to the woman in front of him, his heart wrenched. She was protecting herself from heartache, he could see it. That made him second guess his entire endeavour to tell her how he felt. 

"If it's okay," she spoke up again. "Could you tell what happened after that?" 

And he did, and Sherlock's heart began to ache with the recount of what had happened. As Sherlock got to the point he had realised the truth about 'Red Beard', he clamped his eyes shut. The memories of his best friend, too painful to recall without breaking out of his faux-stoic character. And then he suddenly felt a warmth on his hand; Molly had taken hold of his hand. Rubbing her thumb soothingly against the top of his hand. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. 

Sherlock turned his hand palm up to Molly's, and held it. Molly tensed but then soon relaxed her palm to his touch, fingers gently touching. 

"She's...uh.." Sherlock looked to their hands. "Euros, she's back in _____ now. She'll never be able to leave there. But I visit her every few weeks, she's...uh she's doing good." 

Molly nodded in understanding, though she has no possible idea or way of understanding such a situation. 

"I'm sorry for saying that you were cruel, that was wrong. You're not cruel," 

"Thank you, Molly." Sherlock replied, eyes still lingering on their joined hands. 

Sherlock's will to tell her was gradually slipping away, he couldn't determine whether it would be cruel to tell her or perhaps even crueler to not. The pair were still holding hands on the table, Molly still caressing her thumb against his hand. 

"I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, you've always deserved better." He blurred out, in all honesty he hadn't meant to say that thought out loud. 

"What are you apologising for? Apart from being an arse, of course." She smiled. 

"Would you change anything?" He looked up to her. "If you could, I mean. If say you never had a job at Barts, we would have never met, an-"

"Sherlock, stop that. I have never wished that we never met," 

The air around Sherlock began to thicken with the urge to confess, but also with the want to fantasise a life for her without him; one he believes would have been able to produce more happiness. 

"If we had never met, you would have met someone nice from somewhere else. Probably be married now, another cat,"

Her grip tightened in his hold, "Sherlock, please stop." 

Molly's heart ached, of course she never wished to not know Sherlock. But she did dream of such a life in which she's happy, not alone, and married. But it would mean nothing, she thought to herself, if it wasn't with someone who she loved. 

"I don't want to think about a world where we don't know each other. So, stop with the silly hypothetical." 

"Why?"

Molly began to get up and collect the mugs to move them to the sink. 

"Because it's painful." She said as she lay the mugs down. "Do you?" She asked, turning around, leaning against the counter top. 

"No." He replied without hesitation. 

"Why?" She asked. 

Still from the chair, Sherlock sat looking to the woman in front of him. "Molly, there's something I need to say. About what I said on the phone."

"I thought we already got past this. Please Sherlock." She pleaded. 

"I need to say this," he replied. 

At this, Molly swiftly turned back around to the sink and began to run the water so she could wash the mugs. And also to muffle whatever Sherlock was about to say. Her eyes began to sting as tears threatened to fall once again. 

Ignoring the sound of running water, Sherlock pushed on. Getting up from his seat, he walked to stand to the side of Molly, looking to her face as she looked directly down to the mugs. 

"I meant what I said." 

Molly turned the tap off and looked up to Sherlock as she dried her hands with the kitchen towel. 

"What?"

"I meant what I said and I'm sorry if telling you is the wrong thing bu-"

"You don't mean that Sherlock." She replied with bite to her tone, throwing the towel down. 

Moving closer to her, Sherlock held Molly's hand at her side. "This isn't a pity confession, or an experiment. I am telling the truth. Molly Hooper, I love you." 

Her eyes scanned his face for any tells that he was lying, of course she couldn't find any. Tears began to fall down her face as she continued to look up at him. 

"You're a bastard, you know that right," she said as she moved forward to hug Sherlock tightly, as she began to cry softly. 

"I know," he replied, smirking slightly, nerves present throughout, As he brought his arms to wrap around her shoulders. 

And they stayed like that for a fair while, just holding onto each other. 

When Molly pulled away from him, she fiddled nervously with her hands. 

"What happens now?" She asked, looking down. 

"Carry on as normal, I suppose," he answered. 

"What 'normal' are you talking about?" 

Chuckling at that reply, Sherlock realised she had a point. "Yes, I suppose that's a valid question. I don't know." 

"We'll figure it o-" just as he said this, his phone began to ring. "It's John," 

Molly nodded and began to move away for Sherlock to have some space to take the call. Just as he put the phone to his ear, he took hold of Molly's hand with his free hand. To which she replied with hugging him again, her arms around his middle. 

"Hello....yes. I did. Now that's insulting, John..........Alright......Yes, I told her....it went well," he smirked, catching Molly's eye. "I'm with her now...............I don't know..........what? Why?........Oh for the love of." Sherlock handed the phone over to Molly. "He wants to talk to you," 

Startled, Molly picked up the phone. "Hello?" She asked tentatively. 

"If that giraffe hurts you, Molly. Don't hesitate to tell Greg or myself, we'll make him regret it." John threatened to which Molly burst out laughing. 

"Here you go," Molly said as she handed the phone back. 

"John! What did you say!" 

As the phone call wrapped up, she pulled herself away from Sherlock to look at her own phone that was on another countertop. To which she found three texts from Greg portraying a similar message to what John had just told her. 

"Well that was rude." Sherlock breathed, lightness to his tone. 

Molly held up her phone to show Sherlock what she had been giggling about. 

"Well, actually. That makes me happy that those two are so protective of you. I mean, I'm insulted but yknow." He said. 

As Molly took the phone back, she gasped slightly. "It's 11:30, you should've headed home hours ago."

As they walked towards the front door, Sherlock spoke up. "About where to go from here, uh, I don't know. But I know I want to see you more and not only in case related environments,"

"Or life and death environments," she chimed in.

"Or ridiculous festive parties where I'm forced to wear a paper hat," 

"They're not ridiculous," 

Reaching the front door, Molly reached up to the latch to open it. 

"Could you be suggesting dates?" She asked. 

"I guess I am. Yeah." 

Molly opened the door, "text me," she smiled. 

Sherlock leaned down to kiss her on the cheek as he made his way out. As soon as he heard the door behind him close, he felt like he had been holding his breath the entire time. Walking home, he recalled what had just happened and couldn't stop smiling. Something, not serial killer related, was finally happening. And he felt great. 

"On your way back?" John texted. 

"Yeah, tell Mrs. Hudson to put the kettle on."

Five minutes later, a text chimed through. 

"Not your housekeeper."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this is okay, I wrote this over a span of two days while being grossly sick.


End file.
